


An Unexpected Rendezvous

by aljohnson



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Come after Me, F/M, Fluff, Implied Smut, Light Smut, Post-Season/Series 03, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 07:11:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4616121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aljohnson/pseuds/aljohnson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Come after me, Jack Robinson" she had said, in the early morning light at the airfield. So he did...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Planning Committee...

Jack found himself driving to her house without thinking about it. He could have got back in his car he supposed, turned around and driven back to his small house to stew it over there, but he felt that company was what he needed.

Ringing the doorbell he rocked on his heels, and discovered a sudden fascination with the condition of his nails. He could still taste her lips on his, the softness of her, the warmth, the care he could feel flowing between them. 

The front door swung open, and Jack looked up into the face of Tobias Butler. 

“Inspector,” said the older man with a wide smile, “how lovely to see you. Please, come in.”

Stepping over the doorstep Jack shrugged his overcoat off, handing it to Mr Butler as he removed his hat and hung it in its usual place on the hall stand. Looking to the other side of the mirror he saw one of Phryne’s many hats was still hanging from its peg. It was the light blue one she had worn during the most recent case at her Aunt’s house. Jack loved that hat; Phryne looked so pretty in it. 

“Would you like to come through to the kitchen maybe, Sir?” Mr Butler gently manoeuvred Jack in that direction. Showing Jack into the parlour would be too cruel, he thought. The house was quiet enough as it was, and there was some soup on the stove which required careful tending. 

Jack nodded, barely taking in the words, but allowing himself to be guided through to the back of the house. Sitting down on one of the chairs, he felt that being here had never felt as precious. A cup of tea appeared in front of him at which Jack smiled gratefully. Silence descended as Mr Butler busied himself with the soup. 

As he reached the bottom of his tea Jack spoke. “I wonder, Mr Butler, whether you might be able to assist me with some planning for a project?” 

Pausing as he turned off the heat and found the lid for the saucepan, Mr Butler smiled as he replied. “Of course Inspector. What assistance may I offer?”

“I think, Mr Butler, that we will require an atlas, whatever Baedeker’s Miss Fisher may possess and a Cook’s Continental Time-Table, if one is available. Also, the most up to date newspaper you may have that has currency rates in it.”

Mr Butler smiled again, refilled Jack’s tea and removed himself to the parlour, returning some five minutes later with a large ‘The Times Survey Atlas of the World’, ‘Baedeker’s guide to Russia with Teheran, Port Arthur, and Peking’, another for ‘Egypt and Sudan’, two for Germany and a Cook’s that was mercifully as recent as 1928. Mr Butler collected that day’s newspaper from the dresser behind the kitchen door. 

“I’m afraid Sir, that the Russia Baedeker is from 1914, as is Egypt. But the Germanys are much more recent.”

Jack picked up the Russia book, running the pads of his fingers down the length of the spine before he carefully teased open the cover. ‘The Hon Phryne Fisher, Norfolk House, London’ was inscribed on the first white page, in what Jack recognised as Phryne’s precise handwriting. He could not help but smile as he ran his fingers over the faded ink. Turning to the printer’s page Jack grimaced slightly.

“And it’s a translation from the original German edition from 1912. Do you suppose it’s hopelessly out of date?” he wondered out loud. 

“Perhaps Inspector, you could share with me your thoughts and I might be able to offer further insight.”

“Of course Mr Butler, I apologise, I am being obtuse.” Jack placed the book carefully on the table, sitting back before he began to explain his thoughts to Mr Butler, who even now, with an empty house, was impeccably dressed in his usual black suit. 

***********************************************************

It was some two hours later. Options had been considered, discussed, dissected, rejected, re-considered and hashed over.

“If you’ll forgive me Sir, the problem appears to be in leaving Australia. That seems to be the part which takes the most time.”

“And time is my limiting factor. Well, one of them.” Jack winced. He had not yet had the awkward conversation which he knew needed to occur with his superiors at Russell Street. He was hoping that his ability to be a complete thorn in the side of some of his more corrupt colleagues would act in his favour when he spoke with them.

Mr Butler considered the maps and books laid before him. He thought that Miss Fisher’s journey to England would take at least three weeks, if there were no unexpected delays, and he supposed that she would remain in England for some time. There had been brief talk of some possible other plans, but everything had happened so quickly that there had been no time to discuss the finer points. Mr Butler had however extracted from Miss Fisher a promise to telegraph him as frequently as she could, citing Mrs Collin’s concern for her employer’s safety. The manner with which Miss Fisher had smiled at him as she had agreed had suggested that he was not fooling her for one minute, but an agreement from Miss Fisher was an agreement, and Mr Butler was not above using somewhat deceitful means when the occasion warranted it. It meant he would be able to follow her progress as she flew Lord Fisher home.

“Perhaps Sir, it is time to call in some other parties who may be able to assist?” Mr Butler suggested, delicately.

Jack smiled, wryly. It was always going to come to this, he knew. Jack found he no longer cared, he was quite sure none of _them_ had ever been invited to follow her. Pulling out his police notebook, and examining what he was coming to consider as the evidence on the table in front of him, he wrote down two names, paused, and wrote two more, ripping the sheet from his notebook before handing it to Mr Butler. He was going to take some ribbing for this, he knew, especially from the last two names. Sitting back in his chair he sighed, and wondered idly whether any more tea might be available, and had Mrs Collins by any chance found an opportunity to whip up any biscuits before her rearranged wedding?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verlag Karl Baedeker, founded by Karl Baedeker on July 1, 1827, is a German publisher and pioneer in the business of worldwide travel guides. The guides, often referred to simply as "Baedekers" contain, among other things, maps and introductions; information about routes and travel facilities; and descriptions of noteworthy buildings, sights, attractions and museums, written by specialists.
> 
> Cook's Continental Time-table, is an international timetable of passenger rail schedules for every country in Europe.


	2. Arrival...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack's best laid plans have to be hastily re-written...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive the almost certainly incorrect French - I have been guided by Google translate, and we all know how iffy that can be...

The train slowed as it made its way through Paris’ northern suburbs. Gazing out of the window Jack smiled to himself. This was a considerably more pleasant arrival than the last time he had travelled this route. Habit led him to check his luggage once more: the seabag; issued to him when he had enlisted, was on the luggage rack above him; his satchel was pulled in next to his leg; the picnic basket which he supposed was now the most well-travelled wicker item on the globe was resting on the seat opposite him.

Reaching across, Jack undid the latches of the basket. He stared grimly at the contents, it was almost empty. There had barely been time in Koln for anything other than the briefest of rendezvous with his contact before the next train had been leaving. He considered that he could have taken longer, could have stayed the night there before pressing on to Paris, then to Calais and the ferry to England, but he had come all this way, and time was still against him, and he had not wanted to be parted from Phryne for a minute longer than was necessary. 

Resealing the lid of the picnic basket Jack caught the conductor’s attention as he made his way through the carriage. Coughing nervously he spoke hesitantly, “Excusez-moi, Monsieur, combien de temps jusqu'à ce que nous arrivons à Paris?”

The uniformed man spoke, quickly, “Peut-être, à trente minutes” he replied, shrugging as he did. 

Nodding in acknowledgement, Jack sat back in his chair and checked the inside of his jacket pocket for his wallet, his passport and his now numerous tickets. Tomorrow; tomorrow he would see her again, and their glorious adventure would continue. He hoped.

The train pulled into Gare du Nord exactly on time. Standing up, Jack waited for his fellow passengers to disembark as he pulled his satchel across his right shoulder, threw his seabag over the same shoulder and picked up the picnic basket in his left hand. Stepping down from the carriage he looked around him. Light was streaming in through the windows high above the platforms. It all looked so much brighter now; some eleven years after the War had ended. It had all seemed so grim and dark then; had been he supposed. An announcement system crackled into life. 

“Le train d'arriver maintenant sur la plate-forme quatorzième est La Flèche d’Or de Calais via Lille”

Jack scrunched his eyes in concentration, and looked along his platform again. This was platform twelve. The platform immediately adjacent was empty; platform thirteen. On the next set of platforms over, a train was drawing elegantly to a stop. ‘Platform 14’, Jack would remember that for tomorrow. There was no guarantee of course, but he guessed that the same platforms would be used for the same destinations. Hopefully the departure board would not test his French skills too greatly. 

The passengers on the train from Calais were progressing briskly along the platform. The noise of a carriage door being forcibly flung open snapped Jack out of his daydreams. A woman stepped down gracefully from the carriage, assisted by that train’s conductor. Jack smiled; Phryne owned a coat like that, and a scarf. In fact, they were similar to the clothes Phryne had been wearing when she had flown away from him four weeks ago. Chuckling to himself at the realisation that he was suddenly seeing traces of her everywhere, he decided to watch the woman’s procession along the platform. A platform boy had been called in to assist with her not inconsiderable luggage. The woman glanced around the platform, and Jack was sure his heart stopped beating. Rubbing his eyes quickly he looked again. It was her; it was Phryne. What was she doing here? 

Opening his mouth to shout, he found his throat suddenly dry, no words emerging. He judged her path along the platform; he would have to run, and he began to do so, his tiredness from his long journey and his fatigued muscles, aching from lack of use, all now forgotten. 

Rounding the top of the platform and emerging onto the concourse Jack skidded around the corner, throwing himself in the direction of Phryne. Her laughter reached him first, her flirtatious tone obvious as she said something to the conductor in French which Jack could never hope to understand. Carrying on running, Jack almost barrelled into her, but managed to pull himself up, trying not to appear as out of breath as he felt.

“Phryne!” There was instantly a huge smile on his face.

“Jack?” 

The world around them stopped. They gazed at each other, the surprise of the situation momentarily taking them aback. Not taking his eyes from her, Jack bent his knees to place the picnic basket on the ground beside him. Phryne’s gaze never wavered from his as the Platform Boy spoke to her and she replied with what seemed to be breathlessness. Silence fell between them for a moment before they both reached for each other. Jack’s hands flew to her neck and her waist, Phryne’s to his back and side as their lips met in a frantic, desperate kiss. They broke for air moments later, both somewhat breathless.

“What are you doing here?” they both asked in unison.

“I came to see Jane.”

“I came after you.”

Phryne found herself shocked into silence. She had hoped he would follow her, wished that he could, but she had not really expected him to do so. 

“How did you get here?”

“Well, that is a long story, Phryne. Perhaps we could have dinner, and I could tell you all about my adventure. I think I can be certain that you want to hear my story.” Jack had no idea how he was managing to be quite so enigmatic.

“I really do Jack. Where are you staying?” Phyrne was utterly shocked. He was here, he was really here. He had actually come after her. She hadn’t really thought he would. 

“Oh.” Jack paused, “I, that is, I don’t have anywhere fixed, at the moment, I was going to call on Madame Sarcelle and hope she knew of somewhere.” He paused again, he had actually been intending to stay on Veronique’s sofa overnight in order to allow his funds to last as long as possible. Her telegram in reply to Mr Butler’s enquiry of her had indicated she would be pleased to assist Jack, ‘for Phryne’s sake’. 

“You were going to call on Veronique? Oh Jack, I can only imagine how profoundly uncomfortable you would be amongst her friends.”

“After the people I’ve met on the way here, very little could make me uncomfortable, and the chance to sit on a piece of furniture that isn’t moving would make up for practically anything at this point. Where are you staying?”

“The Ritz,” said Phryne, a beaming smile breaking across her face. “You could join me.” 

Jack took a second to allow the implication of the invitation to settle in his mind. 

“Trust me Jack, it will be greatly preferable to whatever _accommodations_ Veronique may have been going to offer.” She moved closer to him and whispered into his ear, “and the furniture is very solid, although I can’t guarantee that the earth won’t move.” 

Phryne leaned back and smiled slightly, quirking her eyebrows as she did.

Jack swallowed. “Well then Phryne, The Ritz sounds very enticing.”

“No hesitation Jack?” Phryne was pleasantly surprised by Jack’s forthrightness. This was progress, and she found herself delighted at the prospect. 

“Absolutely None. Oh Phryne, I have missed you so much.” Jack pulled Phryne to him, once more wrapping his arms around her waist. 

“You came after me.” Phryne said, quietly as she stroked the lapels of Jack’s overcoat. 

“I did. You asked me to, so I did… I hope that was alright?”

Phryne said nothing, merely nodding as she bit her lip. “More than anything” she managed to croak out, her breathing betraying her as she glanced upwards and her gaze met Jack’s. 

“So, as a romantic overture, how is this?” Jack asked, sweeping his fingers across her jawline.

“Much improved Jack, much improved.” Phryne nodded, trying not to show the full extent of her emotions. 

“Oh good.” Jack whispered, closing the final gap between them once more. He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her again. Phryne pulled herself closer to Jack, tightening her grip on his back as she deepened the kiss. She tried not to groan as he ran his fingers through her hair. If they didn’t stop she would be tempted to take him right here and now in the middle of the concourse. 

“We should get you to The Ritz, Miss Fisher, and I bow to your far superior knowledge of French to locate a taxi for us.”

“Still moving Inspector?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop now, Miss Fisher.”

Phryne smiled and dashed off some quick words to the Platform Boy as the Conductor returned to the platforms. She wondered whether Jack had been trained to affect that low timbre in his voice that in her last few weeks in Melbourne had been sending her weak at the knees. Placing her hand around Jack’s she picked up the picnic basket, considering the item she now placed on top of her stack of luggage, as they were led to the taxi rank. “Jack, is this my picnic basket?”

Jack just smiled, and pressed his lips to her temple. “Patience, Phryne, I’ll explain everything at dinner”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> La Flèche d’Or (English: The Golden Arrow) was a luxury boat train of the Chemin de Fer du Nord and later SNCF (French Railways).


	3. Pre-Dinner...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne is digging for information. Jack is resisting impressively. Both of them are considering seduction...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no linear time in this chapter...

“Oh,” moaned Jack, “this is amazing Phryne. I didn’t realise how much I’d missed this.”

“How long has it been?”

Jack paused. “Two weeks, roughly. It feels much longer.”

Phryne chuckled. “Oh Jack, was the journey that bad?”

Jack smiled. “Actually it was fantastic. But you, Miss Fisher, are trying to wheedle information out of me before dinner.”

“Well I’m intrigued Jack. It’s as if you’ve appeared by magic.” Phryne shifted her position on the bed, moving from where she had been knelt at a distance she felt to be far too respectable, to lie down next to him, wrapping an arm around the soft pillow next to Jack. Her other arm rested against her body, the desire to reach out and touch him becoming over-whelming. 

*********************************************************

It had surprised her how absolutely nonchalant he had been about her booking them both into the suite she was paying for. It would have been impossible not to notice the slightly haughty tone of the receptionist when he had uttered the words ‘Mademoiselle, Monsieur’ as he had handed over the key. 

Once in the room, Jack had thrown off his overcoat and hat as the hotel staff had unpacked their luggage. Phryne thought he looked as if he was born to the luxury. She had watched him as he had wandered through the rooms, familiarising himself with the layout. His policeman’s brain could almost be seen working, fixing the layout in his mind, planning for contingencies. Phryne had watched as he had wandered into the bathroom, emerging seconds later.

“There’s a shower.” He had said, in a low voice as the hotel staff had finished their work and quietly left.

“Well yes.” Replied Phryne.

“I could really use a shower,” Jack had said, stroking the stubble that was growing from his chin, “and a shave.”

“Well don’t let me stop you” Phryne had said, a slight air of challenge in her tone.

Jack had quirked an eyebrow, removed his jacket, his shoes, his socks, his jumper, his tie and his cufflinks before smirking slyly. “I will be in the shower then. I’ll see you shortly, Phryne,” and then he had swept out of the room leaving Phryne to wonder what he was hiding under his shirt and trousers. 

Some thirty minutes later Jack had emerged with a smooth chin, no clothes at all and a towel wrapped high around his waist. Then Phryne had indicated that she too would be grateful for a shower and Jack had watched as Phryne backed out of the bedroom slowly. 

An awareness that Phryne was looking at him, well, staring at him, was very enjoyable to him. Jack had noticed Phryne looking at him fairly frequently since they had first met, but he did not think that the appraisal had ever been quite so blatant. She had practically been blushing. As Phryne took her time in the bathroom Jack relaxed into the covers of the bed and allowed his mind to wander. The journey had taken so long, and since Beijing he had been alone. It had given him time to think things over; to consider how he felt about becoming Phryne’s next lover. Assuming that she wanted him to be, of course. He wanted to be the next, he knew that. The anticipation of being able to make love with her was over-riding any lingering concerns he might have about what the future would then hold for them.

Phryne had emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a silk robe that he was well aware he had seen before. How much luggage had she managed to squash into the tiny hold of her plane? As he had been considering how she might be incapable of travelling light, Phryne had walked across the room and knelt on the bed beside him. 

***********************************************************

Jack rotated his head to face Phryne. He didn’t think he had seen her this relaxed since before her father had arrived in Melbourne. “We should go to dinner,” he said, quietly.

The rumbling sound that arose from Phryne’s stomach agreed, and she buried her head in the pillow in embarrassment. Rolling his body towards Phryne, Jack reached a hand to her waist, rubbing his thumb across the material of her robe. 

“We should,” she agreed. “I know of this divine little bistro just around the corner.”

“Well that sounds lovely. My last… No, that’s another story for dinner. It occurs to me I may have to take you to dinner more than once. I have a lot to tell you about.”

Smiling, Phryne pushed herself towards Jack, pressing her lips to his. Finding himself responding almost automatically, Jack deepened the kiss, before the conservative part of his mind reminded him that he was on a bed, with Phryne, in her hotel room, in Paris. Wearing just a bath towel. Breaking the kiss, he swept his hand from her waist to run his fingers through her hair. 

Phryne looked into Jack’s eyes. She found her own desire reflected in his. If she was not so hungry she would willingly forego dinner to spend the evening exploring more of Jack. What she had seen so far was certainly enticing. The small preview she had received at Queenscliff earlier in the year had suggested that Jack looked after himself and maintained his fitness. Now she had managed to see him naked from the waist up and he was magnificent; toned and muscular and with biceps that rippled. It couldn’t all come from chasing criminals, she had thought. There must be other exercise he participated in. The thought of Jack sweaty and hot from a work-out made Phryne’s desire spark once more. But she was hungry, and was desperate to know how he had got here. She had not managed to prise any information out of him as yet, other than that he had arrived at the Gare du Nord just before her, and that he had not known she was going to be there. He had been expecting to travel on to London, to her parent’s house there. Phryne felt inordinately lucky that he had spotted her amongst the crowds. It was becoming clear to her now how much she had missed his company. 

Pushing herself to sit up properly Phryne calmed herself. Dinner first, she thought; anything else later. The invitation to the bedroom had been accepted, and Jack appeared to approve highly of the bed itself; he had practically salivated when, on emerging from the bathroom, he had seen the accurately described solid furniture. The look of relieved excitement after he had turned to Phryne and asked if he could ‘just try it, just for a minute’, and she had nodded and said ‘of course’ in a slightly surprised tone, had made him appear a decade younger. 

Jack had obviously been travelling for weeks; she was not really expecting anything other than sleeping to happen this evening. But if you couldn’t seduce someone in Paris, then there really was no hope for you, she thought. Maybe tomorrow morning, before she met up with Jane for lunch? But for all his forthrightness, Jack was also obviously still a little nervous and unsure, and she felt the need to reassure him that she had no intention to cast him aside. ‘Come after me’ had been the most serious invitation she had ever issued, and she had not done it lightly, had agonised over whether to say something; when to say anything. Her nerve had failed her at Dot and Hugh’s wedding, and her relief when he had come to wave her off, without trying to stop her from going, had reassured her that she could say the words without fear. 

“I think I can probably allow more than just one dinner, Jack. Right now I am desperate for food, and desperate to hear your stories. And perhaps after dinner, a stroll along the banks of The Seine?”

“That sounds like a plan. And you know that I’m a man with a plan.” Jack murmured, trying to maintain his focus. He forced himself off the bed. What was it about Paris, he wondered?


	4. Dinner...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is still avoiding snails...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a somewhat obscure NP nod, a passing nod to a member of the fandom (if my research is correct) and is the result of hours of research into how long flight took in 1929, what train lines existed, how long the various journeys would take, and how long a sea voyage to Shanghai would have taken.

Jack was surprising himself with how relaxed he was. Perusing the small menu card he tried not to allow his largely poor French to be too obvious.

“See anything you like Jack?” smouldered Phryne, who had already made her choice.

Flicking his gaze up from the card to Phryne he replied. “One thing I like very much, Phryne.” He wondered what had come over him; when had he become so bold? Maybe it was the travelling? He was slightly sleep-deprived and could feel himself rocking slightly, trying to compensate for the movement of a railway carriage he was no longer riding.

Phryne smiled a tiny smile; oh Jack was such fun when he allowed himself to flirt properly.

“From the menu, Jack.” She retorted, throwing him a look that Jack interpreted as a suggestion that he might be Phryne’s preferred choice of dessert. 

He cleared his throat and glanced down at the white card once more. “I have to confess, that whilst I recognise that this…” he poked his forefinger at one of the items, “is snails, the rest of it is beyond me. I am even worse with written French than spoken.”

Phryne tried not to think about the length of Jack’s fingers; the gentle strength she had already felt when he had held her to him as they had kissed. She tried not to think about what his fingers might be capable of doing to her as she focused on the menu once more. “Perhaps try the chateaubriand Jack. After however long it is you’ve been travelling, and knowing your appetite, I think you would rather enjoy it.”

Jack nodded his agreement, and Phryne conveyed their order to the waiter before settling back in her chair and focusing her attention towards Jack.

“So, you promised me stories Jack.”

“I did, I did. Well, where do I begin?”

“Fundamentals, I think. How long do I have you for? Have you resigned from the police force?”

“I thought you said that I was more use to you if I remained a police man?”

“True…” Phryne hoped he hadn’t resigned for her. That would be exceptionally serious, and she would feel somewhat remorseful if they fell apart and he had nothing to return home for. 

“I haven’t resigned. You have me for… five months… and a few days.”

Phryne looked at him quizzically as the wine waiter came over and fussed around with a bottle of red wine which Jack conveyed to be acceptable and which was swiftly poured into glasses for them. 

“I never took my long service leave. So I made a deal with the Commissioner, to take twice the time at half the pay and I also haven’t actually taken any leave for the last few years, so we agreed that I could add that on as well, and it all came to six months. I have to be back at City South on March 17th. Hopefully, that’s enough time to explore at least some of the world. With you. If that wasn’t obvious.” He added nervously. 

Phryne relaxed some more. Such a practical man. Phryne didn’t have a plan beyond delivering her father to her mother, which she had achieved, and visiting Jane, which she was trying to achieve. Thereafter, she had thought she would probably slowly meander her way across Europe, maybe Northern Africa, the Middle East and the Far East as she flew home in a decidedly more relaxed manner than her journey from Melbourne. 

“A slow journey home then Jack? Exploring some places as we go?”

“Sounds enticing.”

“Good. Now, next, when did you leave Melbourne?”

“The Saturday after you.”

“Really? So then, Jack, exactly how did you manage to follow me across the world and meet me in Paris? I can’t imagine you flew?”

“Not all the way, no.”

“Jack?”

“The trickiest part is getting from Australia to well, anywhere, without that leg of the journey taking weeks in itself.”

“Yes, I know. That’s why I had to fly father; mother would have left him if he’d been late.”

“Yes. So Lyle flew me to Shanghai…” Jack mentioned this as if he had just commented that Hugh had passed him a cup of tea.

Phryne practically spat her wine across the table. “Lyle? As in ‘Group Captain Compton’, Lyle?”

“Yes. You were right; of course, we are similar in many ways. And he’s a good chap to have on your side.”

“You asked Lyle to fly you to Shanghai, and he agreed?”

“Well, Mr Butler and I may have employed some slightly underhand tactics…”

Phryne’s eyebrows were threatening to retreat into her hairline.

“We called him to your house at the same time we called Mr Lin. And Mr Yates and Mr Johnson.”

“You called Lin? You called Lin to help you?” Phryne was flabbergasted. 

“Yes. He arranged all the papers we needed to get into Shanghai, and for me to be able to travel on to Beijing. Which apparently is the preferred name, rather than Peking.”

“No, I’m sorry. I feel like I have missed half the story. Tell me everything. Please, Jack.”

********************************************************

As Jack sat in Phryne’s kitchen waiting for two of Phryne’s former lovers to arrive, he contemplated whether this was an absolutely terrible idea, or merely an utterly foolish one. Why would they possibly agree to help him? There was a tap on the glass of the back door and Jack turned to see Bert and Cec standing on the back step. He stood up and let them in.

“’Spector” muttered Bert, scrapping a chair across the floor and taking a seat.

“Albert,” acknowledged Jack. 

Cec merely smiled and leant against the sink unit, removing his hat. Mr Butler returned to the kitchen.

“Ah, I thought I heard the door. I was just trying to see if Miss Fisher’s shelves could offer any other assistance.”

“What you after assistance for?” interjected Bert, “ an’ you didn’t say nothing about it being a police job.”

“It’s not a police job,” Jack said, “It’s a personal job. For me. I would appreciate any assistance you may be able to provide.”

“What’s you need then?” grunted Bert, accepting the cup of tea Mr Butler offered him. Cec took a cup too and looked around to see if any cake was available. 

Jack swallowed, and then coughed. “Miss Fisher has asked me to follow her. To England. And Mr Butler has been trying to work out how that could be achieved.”

“So why’d you need us? Not even a cab provided by Miss Fisher could get you across the Indian Ocean.” Bert replied, biting into a slice of cake Mr Butler had produced from the larder as Cec laughed quietly. 

“Well, if the other two gentlemen who are on their way are agreeable to assisting us, I’m going to need to know as much as I can about Russia. And I thought you gentlemen might be able to fill in some gaps for me.” Jack tried to explain.

“Russia?” queried Cec, suddenly speaking.

“The most logical solution is to cross Australia by plane, and then cross the Torres Straits or the Timor Sea in whatever way is quickest and most accessible. Thereafter, a series of trains would appear to offer a quick and relatively inexpensive route.” Mr Butler said setting out the crux of their problem.

“Relatively.” Jack said.

“And if we can transport the Inspector to somewhere along the eastern edge of Asia, then a fairly substantial network of rail systems will allow him to reach Europe via Russia.” The older man added. 

“Trans-Siberian Express?” asked Cec.

“Yes. Well, Trans-Manchurian, probably” corrected Jack, “runs from Peking to Moscow twice a week. Takes about six days.”

“Impressive,” said Cec.

“That’s Soviet efficiency for you,” said Bert, with pride.

“Turn it off, Bert” said Cec, “this ain’t the time for politics.”

Bert harrumphed, crossing his arms across his chest. 

The front door bell rang and Mr Butler smiled at Jack as he rose to answer the door. “Good luck Sir,” he said. Jack nodded in acknowledgement as the older man left the three of them alone.

“So Miss Fisher’s asked you to come after her then? Does that mean you’re on together?” asked Bert with his usual bluntness.

“Erm, it’s not really that, straight-forward,” Jack tried to explain.

“Never bloody is with sheilas.” Bert grumbled. 

Voices could be heard coming from the hallway. Jack winced; they had both arrived at the same time then. How quickly had they dropped everything to race over here? Captain Compton had probably broken the speed limit on that motorbike of his, and heaven only knew what Mr Lin thought awaited him.

The two men were shown into the kitchen and followed by Mr Butler, who subtly shut the door behind them, easy egress now denied them. 

Jack stood and reached out his hand, “Captain Compton. Mr Lin.” He greeted the two men as he shook their hands. The two men each took a seat across from Jack. 

Lin spoke first. “Inspector Robinson? Is Miss Fisher well? I assumed I was called here at her request?”

“Me too. Nice place she’s got here.” added Lyle Compton, not wanting to be outdone. He had met this Chinese fellow on the tiled path leading to Phryne’s front door, and they had both quietly appraised each other as they had waited for the door to be answered. 

“Miss Fisher is well, gentlemen. Thank you for your concern.”  
Mr Butler spoke politely as he placed tea in front of the two visitors.

“In which case, Inspector, why are you here? Why are we here?” Compton asked.

Jack slowly took a deep breath. “Phryne, Miss Fisher,” he corrected himself, “has had to fly her father to England. She’s asked me to join her.”

Jack paused and looked directly at the two men sat across from him. Lin wore an expression of faint bemusement, and what Jack was fairly sure was a smirk. Compton merely looked confused. 

“I asked Mr Butler to call you, to see if you would be prepared to assist me. I’ve only left Australia once, and they just piled us all onto a boat down at the docks and it was up to someone else to think about the logistics then.” 

Next to Jack, Bert and Cec nodded sagely, their minds casting back to their own journeys to war. Compton coughed quietly. 

Mr Butler moved to the head of the table and rotated the map to face the two guests. “We’ve identified Sirs, that the problem arises in attempting to reach a point where speedy travel becomes an option. The Inspector has numerous options once Asia has been reached, but it’s that first leg which is providing us with some difficulties. We thought, Sirs, with your knowledge of flight, and of shipping, that you might be able to point us in the right direction.” 

Compton reached for the atlas, pulling it nearer to him. He picked up Jack’s notebook and quickly scanned the options Jack had noted down. He pushed the notepad towards Lin who picked it up and examined it carefully, cross-referencing the map before him as he did. 

“I have ships which leave the docks here in Melbourne each week. They could get you to Shanghai in around eighteen days.” Lin spoke carefully. 

“And then another two weeks across the continent? That’s five weeks. At least. And assumes that nothing goes wrong at sea. And I presume it will take you until next weekend to be ready to leave, Inspector?” Compton cut across Lin. 

“Yes, I anticipate needing a few days at work to settle everything. Assuming I can arrange the time off work. If I can’t, then I’m not going anywhere.” Jack tried not to sound disappointed. 

“When did Phryne leave?” Compton addressed Mr Butler.

“This morning, Sir.” Mr Butler answered.

Compton considered this for a moment. “Well, she’ll take three weeks. At least. If nothing goes wrong. Longer if she has to stop for weather or repairs. I would think we should assume that she’ll have to stop somewhere for a few days, there are parts of her plane that will need to be replaced if she’s hoping to make it to Blighty in one piece.”

Jack swallowed hard and tried not to demonstrate any distress at the thought of exactly how delicate Phryne’s plane was. 

“So let us say four weeks. And Miss Fisher does have a tendency to fall into adventure. Even if her mission with her father is urgent, I imagine she would find the time to solve a crime, or rescue some locals from peril.” Lin spoke and tried not to sound like he was teasing. 

Cec smiled. “Too right.”

“Can’t take her nowhere.” Bert added. 

“You’ll be the best part of a week behind already. We need to shave some days off this journey.” Compton returned to the subject in hand. “You have contacts in Shanghai, Mr Lin?”

“I do. The Hu’s. My wife’s family. Our businesses are aligned now.”

“How is Mrs Lin?” asked Jack, hoping to relieve the palpable tension. 

Lin beamed a wide smile, “She is very well. May I show you a picture of our daughter?”

Jack smiled as Lin reached for his wallet without waiting and dug out a small snapshot, passing it to Jack. Camilla was holding a small blanket wrapped babe, its face forcibly turned towards the camera. Jack wasn’t sure he could see any resemblance to either of the child’s parents, but he was far too polite to say so. 

***************************************************

“Lin has a daughter?” Phryne interrupted Jack’s story.

“You didn’t know?” Jack asked.

“I haven’t seen Lin in so long. I’m shocked that he agreed to help.”

“Never underestimate the influence you have on men, Phryne.” Jack smirked as he ate another slice of his steak. 

“So what happened next?”

“Well, Lyle looked at Lin, he was sizing him up I think, and then he discussed how to travel between Shanghai and Beijing, which is…” Jack paused, “a story for another dinner. And then Lyle and Lin asked to be excused to the dining room for a few moments.

“And what happened in the dining room?” asked Phryne, shocked that Jack had found the courage to ask two people who he must know she had been intimate with to help him. Two people who had both held out hope of something more with her; two people who had both been politely, gently, but unmistakably rebuffed. It occurred to Phryne to wonder just how taken aback Lyle and Lin had been by this sudden change in her mind-set.

“I don’t know. But when they came back, Lyle set out a comprehensive plan, which involved more flying than I had bargained on experiencing, but which would shave up to a week off the total journey time.”

The waiter topped up their wine for them as they continued eating. 

“So you flew to Darwin?” asked Phryne.

“No, no. That had been what Mr Butler and I had assumed would be the obvious route, following your plans. But Lyle decided to take us East. We stopped quite often to begin with, probably more than we needed to: Canberra, Sydney, a little place near the coast called Coffs Harbour, Brisbane, some place called Townsville. Actually that one was a bit hairy, we landed with our fuel tanks almost empty. Then we stopped again at Cairns to top up the fuel as much as we could. And then came the interesting bit. It took a full day to cross to the Territory of Papua, but the plane was holding up remarkably well. So I’m told.”

“And it was just the two of you?”

“No, actually. Lyle brought along an Officer Cadet, and the two of them did the flying between them. It meant we could keep going for longer.”

“Jack, I’m getting the distinct impression that the RAAF subsidised your escape from Australia?”

Jack placed his cutlery on the edge of his plate and adjusted his tie. “Phryne, have you signed the Official Secrets Act?”

“No?” Phryne looked puzzled.

“I have,” said Jack, picking up his cutlery and continuing with his meal. 

Looking slightly annoyed, Phryne decided to investigate further. “So you stopped in Sydney?”

“Yes. They’re building a huge bridge across the harbour. They say it will take six lanes of traffic, and trains and trams. Can you believe that; six lanes of traffic! I can’t imagine there ever being enough motor vehicles for it to get busy.”

Phryne laughed, “Oh I wouldn’t bet on it Jack. I can see a day coming when every household has a vehicle of their own.”

Jack thought as he chewed, “I can’t see it Phryne. Cars are so expensive. I only have access to one through the force. City South has two vehicles, and the pressure to send one up to Russell Street is overwhelming sometimes.”

Phryne smiled to herself. Jack could comfortably see the world expanding, but was sceptical about the future of motorcars. How would his views on the world change whilst they spent time together, she wondered.

“So, Papua?”

“Yes, and then over jungle, stopping at all sorts of tiny airstrips. I didn’t even know where we were much of the time. We slept in hammocks slung between trees some nights. Sometimes there were huts at airfields. Those came to become a luxury. We hopped up along the islands of The Philippines. Americans everywhere of course, especially in Manila. Which was very disconcerting after several days of only encountering locals.”

“You spent time in Manila?”

“Just one night.”

“What was it like?”

“Hot. Sticky. Very hot and very sticky. And the hotel did a rather interesting range of cocktails.”

“Did you see any of the island?”

“Only from the air. And then it was on to Taiwan.” 

“The Japanese?”

“Were remarkably friendly. And very attentive. I don’t think the guards who were assigned to us moved more than three feet away from us the entire time we were there. I don’t think it helped that our destination was in China.”

“Probably not Jack.”

“And the day after that we reached Shanghai, where Mr Hu met us at the airfield. I have no idea what Lin had said in his telegrams, but they couldn’t do enough for us.”

“Do tell.”

“Oh well I don’t want to overwhelm you Phryne. Shanghai can be a story for tomorrow night.” Jack smiled brightly as the waiter made gestures that Jack interpreted as an offer of dessert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And all praise to Australian Employment relations, which mean that the Long Service Leave provisions have been in place since the (Queen) Victorian era. I have based the six months off a doubling of what he'd get now (2015), with a bit added on for him not having taken any leave at all since I reckon about 1925/6. This does require you to suspend your disbelief somewhat, but if you're willing to accept that Phryne could have got to England in her plane, then this is considerably less of a leap, IMHO. 
> 
> All of the places specifically mentioned as being stops in Australia for Jack and Lyle do genuinely have airports, although not all of them were operational in 1929. Townsville especially is problematic, but I couldn't resist. I (hopefully) imply that Compton and his Cadet are scouting for new RAAF locations, which is what Townsville became. I figure Australia may have been doing advanced planning for a future conflict which did of course, eventually happen. 
> 
> I'm fully aware that 'my research is showing' about Sydney Harbour Bridge, but again the timing was so spot on that I couldn't resist. I think Jack would be fascinated by the Bridge, and I do also think that for someone who has only really got experience of traffic levels in Melbourne, the sheer enormity of the provision for future traffic levels over the Bridge would have struck Jack as overly optimistic.
> 
> Papua New Guinea was in 1929 an Australian Territory, known as the Territory of Papua, and the situation in the islands that lead to Shanghai was a mess of foreign colonialism. I hope I've got all the history correct. The 'ownership' of many of these islands is still subject to discussion / conflict in 2015. 
> 
> Despite my best efforts I couldn't find any definitive information as to what Visas etc Jack would have needed to have got into China. I've fudged it by having Lin use his contacts within the Chinese community to sort it all out. 
> 
> The Trans-Siberian Railway is a network of railways connecting Moscow with the Russian Far East and the Sea of Japan. With a length of 9,289 km (5,772 mi), it is the longest railway line in the world. There are connecting branch lines into Mongolia, China and North Korea. The branch that runs from Beijing to Moscow is known as the Trans-Manchurian. There is also a Trans-Mongolian (Moscow to Ulan Ude and then on to China). From what I can gather, travel times today (2015) are not too dis-similar to 1929. An electrification upgrade is in progress along the entire route - and here in Britain we can't even electrify the 45-ish mile line between Manchester and Leeds!


	5. Strolling...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have of course, both been here before...

They had declined dessert, in the end, and Jack had subtly rooted through his phrasebook before managing to request the bill with what he hoped was a passable accent. That Phryne allowed him to pay without question imbued him with slightly more confidence. Well, he thought, she was insisting on paying for the hotel.

It was out of their way, but a stroll along The Seine was a perfect way to digest the first real meal Jack had eaten since Shanghai. It was also the first meal he’d had where he’d been confident of what he was actually eating since Cairns. It was surprising how lovely the various foods offered to him had been, but he had quickly learnt not to ask what was contained in the pastry and rice and jars and various small packages that had been handed to him by the smiling and enthusiastic locals he had met as he had followed Phryne across the globe. 

The stars were twinkling in the sky as they paused part way over Le Pont Royal. Jack leant against the stone wall of the bridge and gently pulled Phryne to him. Having waited almost four weeks since the airfield, Jack found that kissing Phryne was one amongst many things he wanted to experience as often as possible. 

Jack had imagined making love to Phryne; recently he had been imagining it quite frequently. One of his fellow passengers on the train from Beijing had spent the evenings gently strumming tunes on a guitar, and the melody had seeped into Jack’s subconscious mind as the train had continued to rattle and judder in its journey across the steppes. The melody had suggested to him romance and longing and on one occasion Jack had not been able to shake from his brain the image of Phryne in her tennis outfit, sprawled across his desk. Jack’s dreams that night had been very vivid and terribly specific. But of all the possible ways Jack had imagined making love to Phryne for the first time; in a hotel, in Paris, him having moved heaven and earth to follow her because she had asked him to, had never occurred to him. 

Now that he was here, Jack had decided that it was finally time to cross the line; to irrevocably alter their relationship. After all, if he couldn’t seduce Phryne when they were in Paris, then he wouldn’t really deserve another chance to try again in the future. And he very much hoped that he was going to be afforded more than one opportunity. ‘Come after me, Jack Robinson’, the five words that had kept him warm during the long, often cold nights, had spurred him on, giving him a confidence that the parade had ceased; that it was something else she craved now. Jack was sure that it was adventure which Phryne longed for, and he was willing to throw himself into this adventure alongside her. 

They paused in their kissing, Phryne gazing at the river flowing underneath the bridge. No words were spoken between them; it seemed as if to speak could break the spell. But some things needed to be said now, before they could know each other intimately. Jack offered his arm to Phryne, and she slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow as they strolled to the far bank, turning west towards the Pont de la Concorde. 

It was so peaceful tonight; Paris was so still, as if the whole city had determined that Phryne and Jack should have the streets to themselves. Maybe, Phryne thought, she should have done this months ago. Not persuade him to Paris of course, but maybe she should have taken him somewhere where no-one could interrupt them? Maybe not. It had taken her until last month to realise just how desperately much she wanted him; that he would be more than a dalliance. What more, she couldn’t be sure. But for the moment she just wanted to be with him. And sooner rather than later. 

They paused again as they reached the Pont de la Concorde. “Is this the first time you’ve been back to Paris?” asked Jack, trying to be delicate.

“Since I fled from Rene? Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

Phryne shrugged. “I can’t allow an entire city to be tainted for me because of one man. Especially not when he can’t come back.”

Jack nodded. “Paris was a sense of relief, for me. The Front left behind, at last. No more stench of death. But otherworldly, somehow. The waiting, to go home. I don’t think I really took in any of the beauty of the place.”

“Do you think we were here at the same time?”

“I was here for two weeks in December 1918. I was luckier than Albert and his friends, I was shipped home quickly.”

Phryne rolled her lips together in contemplation. “Hmm, we were here at the same time then.”

“It’s probably a good job we never met.”

“But how different would our lives have been if we did?”

“I had a wife I was desperate to get home to.”

“Of course.” Phryne paused, momentarily. “I never have really asked you about, all that.”

“I’d changed, she hadn’t.” said Jack, instantly understanding what Phryne wished to know.

“War will do that,” said Phryne, sympathetically.

“Not her fault. How could she ever understand? She didn’t see it for herself, and from what I can gather, the newspapers never talked about the daily reality, just the victories, such as they were. And afterwards, no-one wanted to know. And I didn’t want to try and explain it to her. Why would I want to constantly remind myself?”

“But the most unexpected things send you right back there.”

“Hmm. And for you?”

“All those men, so young and innocent; pleading for their mothers, begging for death. I did what I could. I’m not sure how much it helped.”

“You were there for them, Phryne, don’t under-estimate that.”

“And then afterwards I just threw myself into this hedonistic world of artists and bohemians. Until that all fell apart too.”

Phryne fell silent as the briefest hint of a smile formed on Jack’s lips.

“But look at us now. Ten years on. Eleven, even. Older. Hopefully wiser. And both of our lives completely changed.”

“For the better,” Phryne added, emphatically.

“Definitely,” agreed Jack, pulling Phryne gently into the embrace of his arms, holding her to him. 

After a few moments, Phryne leaned back and studied Jack’s eyes. She saw trust, and perhaps lust and a level of emotion that she felt might be a reflection of her own. Carefully reaching out her hand, she ran her fingertips along Jack’s jawline, before pushing herself forward to press her lips to his once more. Feeling Jack’s hand move as he swept his fingertips across her shoulders, Phryne sighed to herself. For all of her enthusiasm to indulge in the sensual pleasures of life, she had come to realise that she rarely actually spoke the words directly. 

Breaking the kiss she leant back once more and ran her fingers down Jack’s lapel before she spoke, “Jack, will you make love to me tonight?” she asked, with slightly more hesitation in her voice than she had been hoping to reveal. 

Speaking quietly Jack replied, “I was hoping we’d make love to each other, Phryne. But yes, I would like that, very much.”

Finding the question resolved, Phryne took the arm once more proffered, as they turned once more in the direction of The Ritz. 

After a few minutes Jack coughed quietly. As he spoke he continued to look straight ahead. “Erm, Phryne? It occurs to me that your, erm, internal device, is still in evidence in my office.”

Phryne smiled, glancing over to see exactly how red Jack had turned. He appeared surprisingly relaxed still. “I acquired a replacement. City South can keep the old one. I honestly couldn’t contemplate using it again.”

“The spider can’t have damaged it.”

“It’s a point of principle Jack.”

“Well I’m not sure how much use a police station staffed entirely by men could make of it…”

“You could use it to educate them Jack. Hugh certainly seemed to be very quick on the uptake.”

“Surprisingly so,” replied Jack, with a small smirk. 

Deciding not to ask exactly how she had acquired another one, they walked on. Jack mused that things had changed greatly since he and Rosie had married. No such thing as reliable family planning then, certainly not without an awful lot of questions and embarrassment.

Jack had found that his philosophy regarding sex and how it related to marriage, or not, had been changed greatly: by the war; by Rosie’s attitude towards it; by his feelings; and yes, by Phryne and her practical demonstration that it could be consequence free. Well, free of children, at least. Jack was fairly sure that sharing a bed with Phryne would never be entirely consequence free. As Jack mused on this particular philosophical point, they arrived back at The Ritz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Le Pont Royal' and 'Pont de la Concorde' are both bridges over the Seine which were in situ considerably before 1929.


	6. Dessert...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and they're having each other...

Standing back as Phryne conversed in hushed tones with the receptionist, Jack watched as she collected the key to their suite. Their suite. What a thing, Jack thought. What would his family say if they could see him now, he wondered? Probably something censorious, he mused, as they waited for the lift. Definitely disapproving. Muttered tones of ‘not the way you were raised’. True, he thought, but he had been raised as a Victorian Victorian: Australia not even an independent country. Now, things were different: the world was different; he was different, and Jack was very sure, now that he was divorced, that marriage did not have the monopoly on love and sex that he had been raised to believe it did. 

As they stood side by side in the lift, Jack reached for Phryne’s hand. They both kept their gazes fixed on the lift doors as they rubbed their fingers together gently. As they came closer to their floor, Jack swept the pad of his thumb across Phryne’s wrist. Fluttering her eyelids shut Phryne attempted to keep her breathing calm.

As Phryne slipped the key into the lock of their room, Jack took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his rapidly mounting desire. Planning was one of Jack’s strong points, but for this, he was utterly unprepared. As they stepped into the suite, the door clicked shut behind them, and Jack turned and secured the chain. If anyone disturbed them now Jack thought he’d probably be experiencing the law from the other side of an interview desk. And he really didn’t think his French could handle an interrogation for murder. 

“Do you think the hotel staff are scandalised by us?” Jack asked as they both slipped off their overcoats. Shucking his jacket off, he settled on the overstuffed sofa. He was staying after all, and it didn’t seem too presumptuous, especially in light of their recent conversation. 

“They’re French, Jack. They’re almost impervious to shock. And we do have the fiction of the second bedroom.”

“True, true.”

“Nightcap, Jack?” asked Phryne, turning to the decanter of whisky laid out on a side table. 

“I thought you’d never ask, Phryne.” 

Phryne heard the use of her name and smiled shyly. Having poured the whisky she sat on the sofa beside Jack, allowing only an indecently small amount of space to exist between them. 

They both held their glasses, but neither took a drink. Phryne broke the silence which had descended.

“The advantage of Paris of course, is that there is no-one here to disturb us.”

“No-one at all,” agreed Jack, taking a sip from his glass. Phryne did the same, as they both managed not to take their eyes from each other. 

Jack was struck by the overwhelming realisation that he had followed this woman across the world. This woman, this incredible woman, who he loved more passionately than he ever had anyone or anything before in his life. This woman who wanted him. Maybe as much as he wanted her. 

She had asked him to come, and he had. And he’d not asked her for anything, any commitment, or promises, or anything at all. He’d made no presumptions, and received no assurances, and yet he had still come. And he wanted her. Maybe as much as she wanted him. Phryne took a sip of her whisky, took Jack’s tumbler from his hand, and rose to place them both back on the small side table. Retaking her seat, she looked at him, wondering who would make the first move. 

As they looked at each other in silence, they both smiled.

“Jack.”

“Phryne.”

It was all it took. 

They both pushed themselves towards the other, meeting in the middle of the small space between them. Jack’s hand held her head once more as the dam burst and they both kissed each other with a passion they had both previously tried to control. Jack pulled Phryne closer to her, devouring her as he had at the airfield. But this time her father was not there to disturb them, and Jack felt Phryne shift her weight towards him, draping her arms across his shoulders and holding herself more tightly to him. 

Jack’s hands slid around to Phryne’s bottom, kneading and squeezing her gently. Phryne adjusted herself, pushing herself forwards. They were both kneeling, half on the sofa, half off, connected all the way down their bodies, not a hair capable of being squeezed between them. Feeling the need for air, they broke their kiss, but clung to each other still, neither of them now wishing to break apart. 

Phryne briefly considered saying something, anything, to acknowledge the obvious path they were taking. Jack swept a hand from where it had come to rest on her lower back and trailed the pad of a finger down the length of Phryne’s neck. There were no words adequate Phryne decided. Instead she focused on trying not to whimper as the careful movement of Jack’s finger set her skin on fire. Not wishing to be entirely passive, Phyrne slid a hand from Jack’s shoulder, down his chest and deftly slipped her hand under Jack’s jumper. The wool was surprisingly soft and Phryne bunched the material in her hand, pushing it up Jack’s back. Loosening his arms from where they were holding her tightly, Jack assisted Phryne with the removal of this first layer. Tugging at the bow of her blouse, Phryne’s flighty outer layer followed Jack’s jumper to its place of rest across the back of the sofa. Biting his lip, Jack cast his gaze downwards as Phryne loosened his tie. As she did so, she glanced upwards; meeting Jack’s gaze as she gently worked the knot free. 

He should say something, he thought, but anything he could think of sounded trite. An adjustment of her posture allowed Jack to see that Phryne’s next layer was her camisole top. Carefully Jack slid the satin garment over her head, kissing her shoulder as he did. As Phryne made a bid to remove Jack’s shirt he nuzzled at her neck and shoulders, gently kissing and licking and sucking her delicate skin. As he felt his shirt sleeves being slid down his arms Jack paused his attentions to assist Phryne in her quest. Daringly, he thought, he had foregone his vest this evening and therefore his shirt was the final layer covering his chest. Recalling for a moment that following his shower earlier, this was nothing Phryne hadn’t seen before, he pushed the cuffs over his wrists. Leaning forwards, Phryne pressed her lips to Jack’s jawline, before working down his neck and along his shoulder. Feeling Jack’s breathing stutter Phryne lightly nipped the top of his shoulder, hearing him groan lightly in response. Jack sank down on his legs as his mind tried to deal with the heightened sensations. 

A new experience had not been something that Jack had expected to encounter quite this early in proceedings, but here he was already, finding himself being undressed by Phryne. He’d never been undressed by a woman before, had never been kissed anywhere other than his lips or his cheek before. Hell, he’d barely been kissed on the mouth with quite such enthusiasm before. 

Carefully encouraging Phryne’s face upwards, Jack kissed her again, passionately yet forcefully. Tugging gently, he rose to his knees once more, pressing himself against Phryne from chest to hips. Hands roamed across exposed skin, pads of fingers swirling patterns, memorising textures and contours. Their kisses were soft then firm, as they took tentative steps towards the consummation they both now desired.

How she wanted him! And how confident Jack seemed! He’d dithered for so long, even that night at the observatory, that she had wondered whether he would fumble his way when they finally reached this point. She should have realised he would be like this, all quiet confidence and smouldering physicality. The kiss at the airfield had given her a glimpse of what he had been keeping buried beneath his outwardly reserved persona. It was the confidence that was most surprising. She had thought he would be more hesitant, or perhaps in more of a hurry to ravish her completely, but he was managing to build her arousal at a rate that was making her desire spike. She could feel herself simmering, her body responding to his attentions as she could feel his beginning to respond to hers. And what was most surprising to Phryne was that they still had most of their clothes on. 

Jack was thankful for his highly developed skills of observation and ability to plan on his feet. When they had arrived back from dinner he had scoured the room and weighed up the options and logistics. Actually making love on the sofa seemed a tad ambitious given that he was out of practice and the bed, whilst he could testify as to its sumptuousness, seemed a little overwhelming. Someone, a member of the housekeeping staff no doubt, had lit a fire in the grate. A sheepskin rug lay in front of the fireplace. The room was so enormous that there was no furniture placed immediately near the fireplace for them to collide with. And the floor was flat. A flat surface was definitely Jack’s preferred option.

Phryne slid her right knee forwards, pressing herself even closer to Jack. He hummed at the sensation and adjusted both his grip and his stance. Sweeping his arms behind her back, one rested under her bottom, the other resting up her back with his hand splayed wide to support her as he simultaneously placed his right foot on the carpeted floor.

Phryne felt Jack moving and broke their kiss. “Bed?”

“I wouldn’t like to think I was that predictable.”

Phryne smiled. “And words! I was worried that you’d been rendered mute.”

“By the sight of a little bare flesh? I’ve seen you in less before.”

“Indeed you have Jack. But not quite this close up.”

“Very true Phryne. Would you prefer a running commentary from me?”

“That might be insightful, but I think not. Just the occasional reassurance that you haven’t fallen asleep on me.”

“I could never fall asleep on you Phryne. You are the person who roused me from my slumber, and I don’t think I could ever be in such a stupor again.” Jack grasped Phryne’s thigh, wrapping it around his hip. 

Phryne braced her leg against his backside, realising that Jack plainly had an intention of some sort. Wrapping her other thigh around his other hip, Phryne assisted by resting her leg lightly against the other, her legs now wrapped around Jack’s hips.

“Well then,” she murmured. 

Jack rose swiftly to his feet, and took the five steps to the edge of the rug before carefully kneeling down, bending first one knee and then the other, gently setting Phryne on the rug. 

This was an interesting development as far as Phryne was concerned. But she wasn’t quite prepared to let Jack entirely retain control. And she was rather taken with the idea of giving Jack a much closer view of some parts of her than he had previously enjoyed. As Jack adjusted his weight, Phryne loosened her legs and taking advantage of Jack’s momentary distraction, rolled them over so he was pinned beneath her.

Jack chuckled as Phryne pressed the fingers of her left hand to his chest. Jack fell back onto the rug as Phryne dipped forward to kiss Jack once more. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled Phryne to him until she was lying on top of him. As she cheekily ground her pelvis into his, Jack’s breathing stuttered. Oh, he realised, he was getting hard already. 

Smiling as she broke the kiss once more, Phryne sat up and reached her arms behind her back. Ensuring Jack was watching, she deftly worked the fastenings of her bra loose and swept the straps down her arms before casting the item in the general direction of the sofa they had recently vacated. 

Jack swallowed deeply, and swept his hands from Phryne’s hips, where they had come to rest, up her body, anchoring one arm around her waist, as he ran his other hand upwards, tenderly running the pads of his fingers across her small but perky breasts, glancing his thumbs over her nipples. 

Pausing, Jack looked up. “Phryne, are you sure about this?”

“Jack, I’ve wanted this, wanted you, for quite some time. Are you sure?”

“Phryne, I’ve travelled thousands of miles, taken six months leave from my job. I didn’t come to see the sights.”

Phryne dipped down and kissed Jack lightly on the lips, “Oh, Jack.”

“The only thing I’m not sure of Phryne, is how I might remove your trousers. They don’t seem to work the way mine do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...fade to black...


	7. Tracing his journey...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne is still trying to figure out how Jack got here. Jack has decided he'll distract her as he tells her some of it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, this is where the light smut occurs. If that's not your thing, stop reading at "Miss Fisher, are you trying to wheedle information out of me", and skip to the next chapter.

The trousers had in the end come off with remarkable ease. As had all of their remaining clothing. Phryne had thoroughly investigated almost every inch of Jack, including pressing her lips lightly around the head of his cock. Jack had let out a strangled sounding cry and Phryne had sat up and declared ‘hmm, maybe some other time for that’. Later Jack had rolled her onto her back and kissed absolutely every single inch of her, ensuring that he paid special attention to the very small part of Phryne that she hadn’t revealed during her fan dance at Madam Lyon’s. Having ensured that Phryne had reached at least one climax, and Jack couldn’t be sure but he thought that maybe there had been two, and having checked, once again, that she was definitely certain, Jack had found this moment to suffer a slight lack of confidence as he had very slowly, carefully, finally buried himself in Phryne’s welcoming warmth. As far as Jack was concerned it had all been over remarkably quickly after that. Embarrassingly quickly he thought. But Phryne had smiled, rather like a cat that had got an entire saucer of cream Jack thought, and kissed him somewhat chastely on the cheek as he had been regaining his composure. 

*********************************************

Rubbing her thumb over Jack’s hip, Phryne wondered if she should ask about the rather obvious shrapnel damage. The slight hesitancy as Jack had shucked off his underwear had not gone unnoticed, and she had quickly realised why. Determining that she really didn’t want to put him off at that delicate juncture, she had decided to discretely ignore the scars for the moment. 

They had relocated to the bed, and enjoyed a second joining and now they were wrapped up in each other, limbs entangled as they exchanged slow kisses and gentle caresses. 

“Does this hurt?” Phryne asked, splaying her fingers carefully across the damaged area.

“Not usually. I work very hard to try to ensure it doesn’t.”

“But sometimes?”

“Sometimes, yes.”

“Is that why you lean?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You lean Jack, sometimes. Against my mantelpiece, or my doorframe, or the walls at the station. And I noticed that you tend to do it more if we’ve had a long day on a case.”

“Ah. I think you’re the first person to have noticed that. Or at least the first person to actually ask.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Jack sighed. “Pozieres. I was luckier than a lot of blokes. And when I eventually went back to Melbourne it was strongly suggested to me that I should take a desk job.”

“But you didn’t fancy it?”

“I hadn’t survived four years of mud and squalor and death to admit defeat when I finally got home. And I rather think that keeping myself fit and active has probably helped more than sitting behind a desk for the last ten years would have. I’ve seen other blokes who took the easy option, and they need sticks to walk now, if they even can. I’m still young, Phryne, relatively speaking, although I admit that I didn’t feel it until the last year or so. I’m not prepared to let myself sit and rot. Not anymore, anyway.”

“Well you made it all the way back across Europe.”

“I did, I did.”

“And how, exactly, did you do that Jack? Because I seem to recall that you left off when you had arrived in Shanghai.”

“Miss Fisher, are you trying to wheedle information out of me? I believe I made it quite clear that such a topic was reserved for Dinner.”

“I can’t bear not to know Jack! Just, give me the highly edited highlights, and you can give me the fully detailed version over as many dinners as you wish.”

“Hmm, let me see,” murmured Jack, reaching for Phryne’s hand. 

“Jack?”

Carefully disentangling himself from her splayed limbs, Jack moved across the bedcovers, moving Phryne’s hand so that her arm lay straight out from the side of her body, her palm facing upwards. 

“Well as I said, we started from Melbourne,” Jack dipped his head and kissed the tip of her ring finger, “then we flew to Canberra,” he paused again to kiss the inner crease of the highest knuckle of her middle finger, “then Sydney,” he kissed the same knuckle on her first finger, “then Coffs,” the lowest knuckle, “Brisbane,” the crease where her finger met the palm. 

Phryne shuddered slightly, biting her lip as she tried to avoid crying out. 

“Townsville,” he kissed the side of her palm. “Cairns,” the top of her thumb. “Then all those little tiny places in Papua, and onto Manila.” Jack kissed a trial of butterfly kisses up Phryne’s extended arm. “And then we reached Shanghai,” at this Jack dipped over Phryne and kissed her nipple, swirling his tongue around the small bud of flesh. 

“Ohh,” exclaimed Phryne. 

“I stayed in Shanghai overnight,” he added, teasing the peak of her nipple with his teeth before soothing the hardened point with his tongue, “and from there, I made my way to Beijing,” Jack added, a trail of small kisses lead him to her other nipple, on which he suckled gently. “And then it was the train to Moscow.” Jack shifted his position, moving down Phryne’s body as he kissed his way to her belly button. 

“Moscow, Jack?” asked Phryne, as Jack probed her belly button with his tongue. He was really rather good at that, she was discovering. 

“Moscow, Phryne. And from there, to Koln.” Jack moved down Phryne’s body again, pressing the last of the kisses for that leg of his journey to the crease of her thigh.

“And from Koln to Paris?” Phryne asked.

“Indeed, from Koln to Paris.” Jack scooted himself around, positioning himself between her thighs. “Is this all right?” he asked, momentarily unsure of himself.

“Yes” said Phryne, allowing her legs to open slightly. 

“And now, I find myself in Paris,” Jack added, lowering himself to the bedcovers. “And in Paris we have walked along the Left Bank of the Seine,” Jack moved his arm, used his fingers to open Phryne’s folds and kissed her left labia, before running his tongue across the now dampened area. “And the Right Bank,” Jack turned his head and kissed the other side of her opening. “And of course, in the middle of the Seine, the Île de la Cité.”

Phryne abandoned all attempts at restraint as Jack suckled at her clitoris. His fingers continued to stroke her folds until he thrust his fingers inside her. Glancing upwards Jack saw Phryne watching him. Not stopping he smiled, causing Phryne’s hips to buck at the change of angle of his mouth. 

“You seem to have moved on from Paris slightly,” said Phryne, with far more coherence than she thought she was capable of. 

“Well I thought I would be meeting you in London,” replied Jack, scissoring his fingers inside Phryne, before swirling his tongue around her now engorged clitoris. “But in the grand scheme of this journey, Paris and London are very close to each other.” 

Jack stopped talking for long enough to bring Phryne to a further climax. He didn’t think this was covered in Baedeker at all.


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes arrive back in Melbourne...

Jack always tried to keep his eyes open now for this last bit. The first few times he had screwed his eyes tightly shut, hoping that everything would be fine, and that he wasn’t about to die. His confidence was higher now that Phryne had taken him through the mechanics of how it all worked. He knew now that the occasional bounce was fine, to be anticipated almost.

And today, as they circled over the airfield, Jack could see a small group turning their eyes skyward, as Phryne prepared to bring them in to land. 

“Looks like Mr B got our telegram.” Phryne yelled from the flying seat. Jack raised his hand, forming an ‘O’ shape with his fingers in response – he had learnt early on that attempting conversation was futile over the engine noise. He braced himself still though, as Phryne lined the plane up with the far end of the grass runway. Feeling as if his stomach was leaping up into his throat at the sudden descent, Jack was forced against the back of his seat as the plane wheels clipped the mown grass. Just the two bounces this time, before he felt the now familiar loss of speed.

The plane trundled along the grass, Phryne cut the engine, and the wheels slowly stopped. 

Jack paused, just to ensure that they really had stopped. In Baghdad it had turned out that they had not in fact completely stopped, and he had almost come a cropper. Reassured today that all was well, Jack pushed himself out of his seat and clambered down, waiting to offer his hand to Phryne. She didn’t need it of course, she was more than capable of alighting from her own plane, but it was always a superb excuse to sweep her into his arms and kiss her, and she had never complained about that yet. 

Ignoring the fact that he had observed Mrs Collins, Collins, Mr Butler and Dr MacMillan waiting for them, Jack took the opportunity presented to him now and kissed Phryne as passionately as he had that early morning almost six months ago, when they had last been at this airfield together. 

As they broke the kiss Phryne’s eyes sparkled. “Not afraid of everyone seeing?” she teased.

“Phryne, I took six months leave and followed you across the world. I am fairly sure that everyone knows that I am somewhat keen on you.”

There had been questions of course. Especially from her parents, when they had returned to London after a week in Paris during which they had in fact seen quite a lot of the sights, as well as every single inch of each other. Frequently. 

‘Together’ was their stock answer now, to anyone who asked about them. Most people had not bothered to enquire any further. Jack thought that they would be lucky to receive quite such a blasé reception in Melbourne. 

“Somewhat keen? That’s not what you said in Casablanca, Jack.”

“And it’s not what you said in Alexandria, Phryne.”

Jack kissed her again. It was somewhere around Cannes, he thought, that he had realised that applying any sort of ‘label’ to what he and Phryne were to each other was an exercise in futility. He had also realised that any conversation about ‘monogamy’ was equally futile. ‘Come after me’ she had said, and Jack had realised, that first night, after the plans had started to be put in motion for him to do just that, that the request was as close to commitment as Phryne was ever likely to get, and for her as huge a step as him getting in Lyle’s plane had been. It had somehow felt right as they had spent their first few days in Africa to just tell her how he felt. No expectation, no foolish or brave questions, no request for anything from her at all. And he had been sure enough in them by that point to know that she would not just abandon him two continents from home. 

Phryne had made her own, somewhat hesitant declaration in Alexandria, as they had been standing at the mouth of The Nile. And when they had made love that night it had been spectacular, as if both of them now could cast aside any final caution and just allow themselves to be entirely open and vulnerable with the other. And Phryne had shone like the sun, and her eyes had glittered like the stars and Jack had had to stop himself from crying with the perfection of her. And for that night, it had truly felt like there was no one else on the planet besides the two of them, melting and merging with each other. 

They ran over to the small crowd who were running towards them. Phryne embraced all of the party enthusiastically. Jack accepted a firm handshake from Collins.

“Welcome back Sir. I imagine Police work will be quite a shock after your extended break Sir.”

“Thank you Hugh. You forget of course, that I was away with Miss Fisher. On holiday.”

“Oh. You don’t mean that there were any, erm, cases Sir?”

“Four, Collins.”

“Four murders, Sir?”

“Indeed. In Gibraltar, Sierra Leone, Aden and Singapore.”

“And did you and Miss Fisher solve them Sir?”

“We did Hugh!” cried Phryne, coming over to join them in their conversation. 

“Well then Sir, perhaps Monday will be less of a shock than expected. I’ve had the lads tidy your office Sir. Your replacement has gone back to City North already.”

Jack nodded. Phryne embraced Hugh, chattering excitedly as she asked him and Dot for all their news. 

Mr Butler was now standing back slightly, having allowed himself a broad smile upon greeting his employer. Jack moved over to speak with him. 

“Welcome home Sir,” the older man spoke before Jack could begin. “I trust the journey was not too fraught?”

“No, no. A few hairy moments, but I would expect nothing less with Miss Fisher.”

“Indeed Sir.”

“It was a most thrilling adventure Mr Butler. How have things been here?”

“Fine Sir. I’ve kept an eye on everything, as we agreed Sir. Your tenants are due to move out next week Sir. I was hoping that Miss Fisher might be amenable, if you are Sir, to your staying at The Esplanade in the interim.”

“Oh” said Jack. He made a quick decision. “Thank you Mr Butler, I will make sure to discuss it with Miss Fisher. I must confess Mr Butler, that I have greatly missed your excellent cooking…”

“Indeed Sir. I thank you for the compliment, and must confess that I already have this evening’s menu planned. I was hoping Miss Fisher would be amenable to a small gathering to celebrate her return.”

Jack nodded. “I am sure she would”. 

He looked up and saw her embracing Mac. Phryne looked towards him, a broad smile on her face. They had travelled half the world together, and now they were home. It would be curious, he thought, to revert to existing around each other without entirely inhabiting the same space. They had been together, every day, for five months. Were they now to revert to largely separate lives? Jack hoped not. 

Moving over to Phryne, and pressing a light kiss to her temple, Jack squeezed her hand gently in his, speaking quietly into her ear. “Come on; let’s see what adventures Melbourne holds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gibraltar, Sierra Leone, Aden and Singapore were all parts of the British Empire, or run as British Protectorates in 1929. Gibraltar is still a British Overseas Territory.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [O Little Town of Bethlehem](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5531720) by [aljohnson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aljohnson/pseuds/aljohnson)




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